


A wolf named Julian

by brothebro



Series: Witcher!Jaskier fics [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Action, BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, Competent Jaskier | Dandelion, Gen, Monster Fights, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Platonic Relationships, Secret Identity, Secret Identity Fail, Witcher Jaskier | Dandelion, Witchers Have Feelings (The Witcher), no beta we die like Jaskier's secret, school of the wolf witcher jaskier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:40:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24056854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brothebro/pseuds/brothebro
Summary: Back on the topic of importance now, Jaskier accidentally spent twenty-two years travelling the continent with Geralt, his childhood friend, his brother, as a bard and not a witcher, never once revealing who he really was.It was a lie of omission really. Not a deliberate one.Well... kinda.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Witcher!Jaskier fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1735504
Comments: 38
Kudos: 567





	A wolf named Julian

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StarsInMyDamnEyes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarsInMyDamnEyes/gifts).



It's been very long since Jaskier last stepped a foot in Kaedwen. Now that he thinks about it, last time he was in this godforsaken northern kingdom he still went by Julian of Kovir. When was this again? Four decades ago? Five? Anyway, far too long. 

It's not that he actively avoided the kingdom. No, on the contrary, he likes it here, however cold and frigid it could become. After all, he grew up here, so many many winters ago. 

It's the first time, however, that he visits his homeland as Jaskier the bard. He can't help the uneasiness that wrestles with the completely unrelated guilt in his stomach. 

Well, that's a lie. The guilt is absolutely related to the particular area Geralt, Ciri and he are currently walking towards. Namely, Kaer Morhen. 

You see, he'd given up on the path nearly four decades ago, procuring for himself a magic silver bracelet; a glamour, to hide his more… non-human nature. 

The reason he did that was quite simple really. He loved music too much to be content with the rigid lifestyle of a Witcher. And let's not forget, the kind people of the Continent hardly tolerated a Witcher. A singing Witcher? He would be stoned to death. And that inconvenience he really wanted to avoid, thank you very much.

There is one more thing bothering him.

If he were to be completely honest the guilt that was festering inside his guts was also related to one white-haired witcher that is trudging through the harsh terrain in front of him. A witcher by the name of Geralt Roger Eric du Haute-Bellegarde -- _ no! _ \-- Geralt of Rivia. Jaskier feels a smile forming on his lips by the memory. Oh, how Vesemir had nagged at him to chose a more practical name and how much Julian had laughed when Geralt would spend hours upon hours in their shared room trying to perfect the Rivian accent! 

Back on the topic of importance now, Jaskier accidentally spent twenty-two years travelling the continent with Geralt, his childhood friend, his brother, as a bard and not a witcher, never once revealing who he really was.

It was a lie of omission really. Not a deliberate one. 

_ Well... kinda. _

When he crossed paths with Geralt in Posada two decades ago, he thought it would be harmless fun to pretend he didn’t know him and consequently annoy him into catching on that he was Julian of Kovir under the many heavy layers of the glamour. To his defence, he did not expect Geralt being so damn dense! He was throwing references to their childhood adventures at every possible chance he got. And he was not being subtle. He really thought Geralt still remembered them, remembered  _ him _ . They had even undergone the same extra mutations together! They had survived together! Did it mean nothing to him?

But days became months and months became years and Geralt never put two and two together. 

So here they are now, twenty-two years later, still travelling together, a secret thick in the air. It’s too late, Jaskier thinks, to tell him the truth. Too late. He should have told him right then in Posada, but  _ noooooo _ , he wanted to joke around. 

He sighs heavily. The return to Kaer Morhen is going to be a nightmare. But he doesn’t have much choice. Not when the entire empire of Nilfgaard is after them. 

_ Bloody perfect.  _

He prays to Melitele, Vesemir won’t be able to tell through his disguise. Or Eskel. Or Lambert. 

Oh. He’s fucked, isn’t he?

“You’re awfully quiet,” Geralt’s coarse voice shakes him lose from his swirling thoughts of guilt. 

“Oh well, I figured I’d save us the trouble of an unexpected avalanche,” Jaskier shrugs. 

“Yeah right...” Ciri rolls her eyes, “Don’t joke around Jask, what’s in your mind?”

He doesn’t answer and just frowns in response. 

“ _ Jaskier, _ ” Geralt says in a low growl. Jaskier yanks his arms upward in defeat. 

“ _ Fine _ .” he says, “It’s just been a very long time since I last came this way. Memories and so on and so forth.” It’s only half a truth but it’s a truth nonetheless. 

Geralt lifts a dark brow, “Didn’t know you been here before,” he says in an inquisitive tone.

_ Oh but you do know, you idiot wolf,  _ Jaskier thinks to himself. He can’t take it anymore, he’s ready to tell Geralt who he really is and he’s ready to accept the consequences; be it a sword through his abdomen or the loss of his dearest friend. 

He opens his mouth to speak but is rudely interrupted by the screeching of a Wyvern circling above them. No, not one Wyvern but two. And they are ready to dive after them. Just their luck. 

“Stay back!” Geralt growls pulling his silver sword from his sheath on his back. Jaskier completely disregards the instructions of his friend and rushes to his side unsheathing in quick manoeuvre Geralt’s steel sword. It will not do as much damage as the silver sword but right now, their survival depends on Jaskier joining the fight. Geralt is a capable witcher, sure, but he can’t take on two Wyverns by himself.

_ “Jaskier!” _ Geralt hisses.

“Shut up Geralt,” Jaskier growls back at the confused Witcher, “Toss me a Golden Oriole!”

“What?”

“ _ Now _ , Geralt!” 

Geralt throws the potion bottle and Jaskier catches it mid-air and proceeds to down it in one big gulp in front of the disbelieving amber eyes of his friend. He can feel his toxicity rising, dark veins now visible on his pale skin. He wonders if his eyes are showing pitch black through the glamour. Geralt reluctantly pops a second bottle and drinks from it as well. 

And just in time as well. 

The Wyverns dive, screeching horribly, hundreds of pointy teeth aiming for their heads. Jaskier rolls out of the way and with a turn of his body he slices the wing of the creature that attacked him. It roars and it sweeps its tail throwing him several paces away and right into a rock.

Fuck. He’s going to be sporting bruises for weeks. 

He gets on his feet, balances the sword on his hand and jumps towards the monster that’s now occupied with Geralt. 

Geralt is doing his best fending off the swipes and the bites of the Wyverns but he’s growing tired. One small misstep and he’s dead. 

“Oy! Cocksucker!” Jaskier yells at the Wyvern jumping on its back. He forms the familiar sign of Aard with his free hand right in the creature’s ears. 

The scream that follows is deafening. He takes the opportunity to thrust the steel sword right through the wyvern’s cranium and it falls with a plop on the hard ground, limbs still twitching. 

He shoots a glance over at Geralt who is still fighting his opponent. The creature looks bad for wear and Jaskier is sure Geralt will be able to defeat it by himself. Still, he runs towards it to get its attention. He manages to land a hit on the wyvern’s tail which gives the Geralt the time needed to pierce its heart. 

“Wow, what a hunt!” Jaskier says putting his hands on his hips when the creature falls dead. As he does so the bracelet falls from his wrist, slipping from the Wyvern’s blood that now adorns Jaskier’s fancy blue doublet. 

_ Great _ .    
  
Forty-something years this bracelet has managed to stay on his person only to slip from a bit of blood.  _ Wow. Just wow. _ He’ll have to have a word with the sorcerer that made it. 

He feels the chaos becoming undone almost instantly. Old scars appear on previously unmarred flesh, white strands of hair cling to his forehead instead of brown. 

He promptly lies on the cold ground, closes his eyes and awaits his fate. 

He does not foresee what happens next. He expects to feel the cold edge of a sword on his throat, or at the very least have profanities being yelled at him. He does not expect to be pulled in a hug by both Ciri and Geralt. 

“I was scared for you,” Ciri whispers. 

“I’m an idiot,” Geralt says in a low rumbly voice, “I thought you were dead for so long, Julian.” 

Jaskier reluctantly cracks open a --still pitch black-- eye. “You’re not mad?” he croaks. 

Geralt shakes his head. 

“Why?” Jaskier asks. 

“I’m an idiot,” Geralt repeats. 

“I know that,” Jaskier says, “Why aren’t you mad Geralt? I hid who I was for over two decades for fuck’s sake!” 

Geralt snorts a laugh and Jaskier raises a brow.

“Gods, you’ve been trying to tell me for so long,” Geralt says, “and I refused to connect the dots because I had convinced myself you were dead.”

“I’ve … been trying that, yes… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you outright, though. I really thought you’d get it eventually.“ 

“Him?” Ciri laughs, “but he’s dense as a rock!” 

“Indeed he is,” Jaskier sighs dramatically and that earns him a light punch on the shoulder fro Geralt. “Hey!”

Geralt hums smiling and tilts his head lightly to the side. “Let’s go, brother. Vesemir will be overjoyed to see you.”

“The old man? Nah.” Jaskier smirks and picks up the discarded bloody bracelet, “Let’s play a joke on him, like old times. What do you say Geralt?”

“Oh, you’re evil,” Geralt smirks, “Count me in.”

-The end! Or is it?-

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to @StarsInMyDamnEyes for providing me with the prompt for this fic! 
> 
> Feel free to leave your thoughts on the comment section  
> And thank y'all for reading <3


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